by Nadia Lee
“Out.”
“I didn’t see her leave.”
“You wouldn’t have, if you were in the kitchen.” The house is too big to notice who’s coming in or out. That’s why I have security, gates and the wall.
“Is she okay?” Elizabeth asks.
“I guess.”
“You guess?” Her eyebrows climb her forehead. “You didn’t talk to her?”
I sigh, not liking having to answer the question. “We did, but it wasn’t very productive. Both too emotional.”
Elliot shakes his head. “Damn, Ryder. You should be with her. She needs you.”
“Thanks for the advice there, love-sensei.”
“He’s right,” Elizabeth says. “What happened to her is so terrible, she’s going to need all the support she can get. Besides, you need to brainstorm with Mira about how you can get back at the person responsible.”
“You mean sue?”
“Good god, no.” Elizabeth gestures with her glass. “You’re a great actor. Pretend you’re…” She considers. “Pretend you’re Dane. What would you do?”
What would that borderline sociopath do? Nothing as simple as filing a lawsuit. “Probably ensure that he can never have what he wants the most.”
“Okay, good. Do you know what that is?”
“Fame and fortune. He’s in Hollywood, isn’t he?” From what I gathered, Shaun is handsome enough to be an actor, although he’s never gotten a role. But a good face isn’t even close to enough. L.A. is spilling over with good-looking men.
“Well, there it is. Get him blacklisted, make sure that no one will return his calls or let him read for a part. Make him toxic. Avenge Paige,” Elizabeth says, with more than a little heat.
I stare at her. “What happened to my sweet sister?”
“She’s too outraged to be sweet right now. I just feel sick to my stomach thinking about what Paige must be going through.”
“You really think she has nothing to do with the tape?”
Elliot and Elizabeth both stare at me. A very long moment passes, and I start to feel uncomfortable under their gaze. “You think she does?” Elliot asks finally.
“Well…yeah. The thought crossed my mind, especially when I heard she scheduled an interview.”
“But that’s crazy. If she wants fame, this is the worst way to do it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because she’s already famous for marrying you! And it’s a helluva lot more respectable than a sex tape.” Elliot knocks back his drink. “I released mine because I wanted to embarrass the shit out of Dad. Plus, I basically didn’t give a fuck. But Paige is different.”
“Exactly.” Now it’s Elizabeth who decides to drive in how wrong I am. “People crave fame because it can get them something—mainly an ego boost and money. What does this give Paige? No respectability, certainly not love. And she has to know that this might make you call off the wedding.”
“In which case, she’s not getting whatever you promised in return for marrying you.” Elliot reaches for the bottle and pours himself some more. “Besides, if she wanted money, she would’ve failed your test years ago.”
That makes me hesitate. I always probe a new hires’ suitability by having my private investigators pretend to be “journalists” trying to buy information about me. They always offer decent amounts of money with the promise of more to come. The total sum adds up to mid-five figures a year.
My men tried four times—the last one offering a low six-figure deal for just two stories—and Paige turned them all down flat. No exceptions, no hesitation whatsoever. That’s why I began to trust her soon after I hired her. And the trust turned into something else, something more precious as time went on.
But that was before Paige saw what fame could do in Hollywood. She could’ve changed…just like Lauren.
“Paige had no idea she would end up marrying you,” Elizabeth says. “I don’t think the idea ever crossed her mind. And tell me. Who proposed first? Did you ask Paige to help you or did she offer first?”
“I did. She thought I was crazy when I asked her.”
“See?”
“If you have to jump to a conclusion about the guilty party, I’d look at Dad.”
My head swivels in Elliot’s direction. “Dad?”
“He’s the most likely person to pull this shit. Okay, let’s say that her boyfriend leaked it. What does he get? Ten minutes of fame. But unless he’s a complete idiot, he’ll end up alienating you and every one of your friends. If I’m a guy trying to break into the movie business, the last thing I’m going to want to do is piss off one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, plus his agent, plus all the people he knows. It’d be career suicide. But Dad?” Elliot gives me a meaningful look. “I can see him doing it. He’d get to humiliate you. He knows what you’re doing. And we all know he has no desire to hand over the portraits.”
Neither Elliot nor Elizabeth knows about another possibility: Anthony.
Still…
This isn’t his style. Or at least it wasn’t when I knew him. But he used Paige to get invited to the party. And for all I know, he may no longer think that women are off limits. After all, he promised to pay me back by hurting me the way I hurt him. And that means he’s going to have to hurt a woman who is close to me.
“Ryder.” Elizabeth reaches over and pats my hand. “Being suspicious and hurting the people who care about you and who you used to trust isn’t how Grandpa wanted us to be. He always saw the best in us. We should try to live up to that.”
I swallow the rest of my drink. My sister has a point of course. But Grandpa also wouldn’t have wanted me to be careless and get blindsided.
We drink some more, the silence heavy. Sometime during the night, the security team texts me that Paige has returned. I don’t get up. I still don’t know what to do about her.
Finally we finish—a bottle of scotch and half a bottle of Riesling killed between us—say goodbye, and I go upstairs to my suite. After changing for the night, I hesitate at the connecting door. I shouldn’t even want to go inside, not until I sort out my thoughts about the situation.
But I find myself slowly opening the door.
The night-light is on, and I see Paige’s body under the sheets. She’s curled up in a fetal position. The tip of her nose is red, and her face is tear-streaked. Her eyebrows are pinched as if she’s in pain, and I lean down to kiss her forehead even as I feel like the biggest piece of shit and don’t even know why. I’m still pissed off about the tape, and Mira’s words won’t leave my mind. But a part of me still wants to comfort Paige.
A knot twists in my chest. I crawl into bed and pull her closer. It’s only for a moment because my head is too messed up and despite everything I want to hold her. Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?
Paige sighs softly in her sleep, turning toward me. As she buries her face in my chest and continues to sleep, I stare at nothing with my eyes open, hating the fact that the knot in my chest is easing with her in my arms.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Paige
When I open my eyes, I realize I’m not alone in my room. A heavy arm rests across my belly. I don’t have to turn to know that it’s Ryder. No other man can make my skin tingle or my awareness prickle.
But I’m not about to let my hormones dictate my feelings right now. What he said last night is still circling in my head. Just because he decided to spend the night in my bed doesn’t mean he’s changed how he feels. Maybe he thinks he misjudged the situation, but he should’ve never suspected me in the first place. He should’ve given me his trust.
I stay still for a moment, listening. He breathes heavily, his mouth slightly parted. He probably came in much later than I did. I slide off the bed carefully…and thankfully he keeps sleeping. I don’t want to face him and talk to him about what happened or how I feel right now. I’m still too upset, and it isn’t the kind of conversation I can have on less than six hours of sleep. Not when my eyes fee
l gritty and my head full of wet cotton.
I go to another suite to shower so I don’t wake Ryder. I would normally dress casually, but since I plan to go out later today, I choose my outfit with care. I put on a white satin blouse and a pale green skirt. A pair of cute strappy sandals and I look good enough to meet with Anthony. I still have his card, and I plan to talk with him about Lauren before he leaves L.A. Unless I understand what truly happened between the three of them, I’ll never understand why Ryder is behaving the way he is.
Why does it matter? The wedding’s probably off, the pessimistic side of me whispers, but I don’t care. I want an explanation. I deserve to know.
But first things first.
Breathing in deeply, I march to the guest house. I have to talk to Mom and Simon. There’s no way I can avoid them, and in any case, they deserve to hear the news from me.
Shame and anger burn in my belly, but I push them aside. My parents already know I’m ashamed—they know me too well not to. And I’m pretty sure Simon is flabbergasted. He’s a teacher after all, and will have to go to work knowing that his peers and students have undoubtedly seen the tape.
I ring the doorbell and wait. The housekeeper answers. Her expression is stoic, and no sympathy shows in her eyes. “Good morning. Your parents are in the kitchen.”
“Are they having breakfast?” The guest house has a formal dining room, but my parents will be more comfortable at the simple counter in the kitchen.
“Yes. Do you want me to let them know that you’re here?”
“No. I’ll go see them.”
I walk to the kitchen where Mom and Simon are having a breakfast of poached eggs, fruit salad and yogurt. Mom sees me first. She immediately jumps to her feet, and runs over. Her arms wraps around me tightly. “Sweetie. How are you holding up? We just heard when we got up.”
I told myself I wasn’t going to waste any more tears on the whole thing, but when Mom holds me like this, they start to flow again. I sniffle, wipe my eyes and cheeks impatiently. “Mom. Simon.”
Simon squeezes my hand.
I search their faces. All I find is understanding and compassion and love. And I’m so relieved and grateful that I can’t help but break down. I clutch my Mom harder, burying my face in her shoulder. My tears soak her shirt, but she only pulls me closer.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” My words come out muffled.
“It’s not your fault, sweetie.” Mom says.
“Of course not.” Simon pats me in the back. “It’s terrible this happened to you, Paige. You don’t deserve this.”
“Nobody does.” Mom finally pulls away to look at me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” I wasn’t until I saw them. But now my world makes sense again.
“Where’s Ryder?” Simon asks.
“Sleeping. He went to bed late.”
“I’m sure he was shocked.” Mom’s voice is placid. “I can’t imagine… The wedding is only three weeks away.”
“I know.” I pull my lips in. “But we may have to call it off.”
“Why?” Simon asks forcefully. “Is he blaming you?”
“No.” The lie sounds feeble even to my ears. “But… The wedding is going to put us in the spotlight, which means the…tape is going to be rehashed again and again since it’s such a…fresh news item.” The words taste bitter. If I never see myself mentioned in the news again, I’ll die happy. “Eloping is out of the question. If we do, it’s going to look like I’m guilty or something.”
“I’m going to strangle the son of a bitch.” Simon’s chest rises until it’s almost hitting his chin. His brows form a deep V above stormy eyes.
“Shaun isn’t worth it,” I tell him.
“We can stay here and be with you as long as you want,” Mom offers.
I shake my head. “You should go back as planned. Please don’t change anything because of this. That would mean Shaun is winning. I’m not going to let him inconvenience you.” I hold both of their hands in mine. “It’s not the first time something like this has happened in Hollywood. We have a team that knows how to handle the fallout. We’ll get through it.” I squeeze Simon’s hand. “And I’m so, so sorry for the trouble this is gonna cause. I should’ve been more careful in my choice of men.”
“It’s not your fault the guy turned out to be a jerk. You’re a good girl, Paige. Don’t feel like you did something wrong. You’re a victim, you hear?”
“Yes.” And the thing is, I do believe it. Of course I do. But even as my head is nodding, my heart is telling me different. It says I could’ve done something to prevent this, that I should’ve known better, that I should’ve cut Shaun loose a long time ago and never given him a chance, and that I should’ve known that something was wrong when a guy as good-looking as Shaun decided to date me out of the blue.
“Would you like to have breakfast with us?” Mom asks. “This is our last day here…it’d be nice to spend some together.”
“Yes. I’d love that. And I’m sorry I’m not going to be able to spend more time with you today. I have a really important appointment.” From what I can gather, Anthony doesn’t live in L.A., and I don’t know when he’s leaving. We could talk over the phone, but I want to see the expression on his face when he talks about Lauren.
“No problem. We know how to fend for ourselves.” Simon leads me to an empty seat. “Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. We’ll always be here for you. And no matter what, I want you to know that we’re proud of you, Paige. Nothing’ll ever change that.”
“Thank you.” I say as I swallow another sob.
* * *
Ryder
Paige is gone, and the spot next to me is cold. She must’ve left at least an hour or two ago. I curse under my breath. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.
Quickly, I shower and change into a clean t-shirt and shorts. Paige and I need to have a calm, rational talk about what we’re going to do. The wedding is in three weeks.
I go downstairs to look for her. When I spot Sue I ask, “Have you seen my fiancée?”
“I think she was going to the guest house.”
Damn it. I wanted to talk before she saw Maggie and Simon. I don’t give a shit what my parents think, but Paige isn’t like that with hers.
After grabbing a cup of coffee, I make my way over to the guest house. The housekeeper there informs me that Paige is having breakfast with her family.
I go straight to the kitchen. The three of them are sitting at the counter. Paige is between Maggie and Simon, and both of them are making sure to touch her, constantly reassuring her with their presence and love.
There’s some tension, but underneath is something tight and warm. It’s an invisible shield that keeps everyone else on the outside. A bond runs through the three that says they have each other’s backs.
The scene transfixes me even as a sharp pang of longing pierces my heart. Grandpa used to do that for me when Grandma Shirley or Mom would say something particularly nasty. And I thought I’d have it again when I had his portrait. But now I wonder if I have it all wrong.
I swallow and rasp, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
All three of them turn around to look at me. I notice the red rims around Paige’s eyes, and the sight of her misery is like a jab to the gut. Whether she planned the video or not, I don’t like seeing her in pain.
Simon gives me a glare. “Well. What do you intend to do about the scandal?”
“Simon!” Paige gasps.
“I’ll have my team handle it, of course.” I don’t plan to tell her stepfather more than that when Paige and I haven’t had a chance to talk first. “Paige, can we have a moment after you’re finished with breakfast?”
“Actually, I’m afraid I can’t. I have an appointment.”
I frown. I can’t imagine what kind of appointment she might have on a Saturday. Or what could be more important than the conversation we need to have. “Um…it’s not a doctor’s appointment, is it?” I’
m pretty sure no doctor’s seeing a patient today unless it’s an emergency.
She flushes. “No. It’s personal. But we can talk afterward.”
I pull back at the stiffness in her voice. She’s never taken that tone with me, not even when she was upset over my purposely missing family gatherings or pretending not to understand what she was saying. I suddenly realize how much of her warmth I’ve been taking for granted. I never once thought it would vanish, no matter what.
I want to insist that she talk to me now, but I’m acutely aware of our audience. “All right. We can talk afterward. Just let me know. I’ll be around.”
She looks at me dispassionately and nods once. “I’ll do that.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Paige
I climb inside my old car and speed off the property.
Ryder told me to stay away from Anthony, but I don’t know if he’s as dangerous as Ryder made him sound. I’m certain most of Ryder’s worry has to do with their bitter history.
I pull over and dig out Anthony’s business card from my purse. It only has an office number. Does it forward to a voicemail, or someone who can get in touch with him directly?
I flip it idly then stop. The back of it has ten neatly hand-written digits. Underneath it says CALL ME.
Did he know I’d end up needing to talk to him when he gave me the card? My hands clammy, I text him instead. This is Paige. Can you tell me about Lauren?
When? he replies.
Now.
A beat passes by before he responds: Come to Z.
I merge into the traffic and drive to the club. Amazingly, there aren’t that many cars on the road. I spot a white SUV and a black Escalade tailing me.
I snort. Tailing. Yeah right. More like we’re just going in the same direction. I must be getting paranoid after all the uproar. Bethany texted me four times already this morning to check up on me, and I owe her a call after I’m done getting answers about Lauren.
About an hour later, I park my car in a semi-deserted parking garage a block away from Z and walk over. The club looks different during the day.